


So, Decide

by Khohshekh



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Domestic Violence, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 03:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14228121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khohshekh/pseuds/Khohshekh
Summary: So, do it. Decide. Is this the life you want to live?





	So, Decide

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little short piece of shit I did. Keep you sick fucks on your toes. the title isnt that great. If this becomes a longer work, I already have a better title

Waiting, but for how long?

Anticipating, but for what?

Living, but to what expectation?

Waking up, but with what purpose?

Breathing, to what extent?

Every single god damn day, I wake up laying next to the thing I fear the most. I walk the streets with the shallow wave of intimidation from the people around me. Their eyes shred through my heart like pins and needles. The guilt split me in two. I've never been this tired, so empty, with visions of the people I could have been, the lovers I left behind, the opportunities. He wants to live inside me, never leaving. He plagues my mind ceaselessly. Every feeling I swallowed, decaying all joys presented. He is the hatred I have become, every joy he denied me, all the things I pretended to exist. 

All I see is resignation. I cant bare this sadness, even when I wished to end everything, he was somehow there to stop me. 

Feelings shoved away.

Reclusion from my family.

Never ending thoughts burning my eyes.

Mangled hopelessness, always giving up. 

Each day I fight my own burden on my shoulders. All for him.

Him, him, him.

I wait, kneeled aside the shared bed from him to return. When he at last returns, like every other day, he inspects the house to ensure I did all of my chores before waiting at the bed, leaving the fridge and television untouched, and at last removes the chain from my neck. He will decide if he wants to viciously fuck me until the pain becomes monstrous, demanding I kiss him right back.

"Dinner, if you would please. I'd like to eat before my program begins."

I hate him. So fucking much. Marriage sealed the bond years ago, and he suddenly snapped one day and reminded me of strong misbehavior. The beatings soon became daily, and one night he left me so injured I could hardly lift my own head. Every day, when I wake up, I make his coffee, breakfast, and bed for him. While he's at work, I wear a chain around my neck like a dog, and do the same list of chores every day. He leaves a lunch for me, as I am not allowed in the locked fridge, and then, I strip down naked and wait for him in the bedroom. If he decided to go out with his buddies, I could be waiting hours for his return.

Dinner, and television. Bedtime, strapped to the bed. Wake up, and repeat.

Weekends were different. He often went out, but rather than chores, he would leave me chained inside a small dog cage all day with nothing but bread to snack on. We had sex every week. The pain was unbearable. 

Tonight, I reserved to making a rotini dish for him, making the cruel mistake of slipping a few nibbles to taste, convinced he was no longer in the room, but remained in the shower. He tricked me, leaving the shower on while coming out to check on me. 

When he yanked on my hoodie, I yelp, cowering. "Danny... are you being a good wife?"  
"Yes, George. I'm a good wife..." His sexist remarks pain me sometimes. He once called me boyfriend, maybe even husband, but that was all thrown out the window. "Good wives do not eat when they are not supposed to."  
"No, George, they don't. It was only taste test, I promise. I know how you don't like too much spice in your meals."

He pinches my chin, hard, blinking burning, voiceless threats into my eyes and I try not to flinch. "Do you want to skip dinner, tonight? Because I can whip that cleverness right out of you easily, and send your sore sorry ass to the cage with an empty belly. Is that what you want, Danny?"

"No, George."

His hands shift downwards to cuff my throat. "What do you want then, huh?"

"Please, husband, I only wish to serve, and eat dinner with you."

"My program is on in 40. It would be a shame if I was to miss it because I'm too busy beating sense into my bitch of a wife." I hold my tongue. I cannot speak unless given a question, or permission otherwise. "Don't you want to watch the show with me, Danny?

"Yes, George. I'd like that very much."

For a moment, his grip tightened, then released, using his thumb to caress my cheek. Leaning in, he licked the lobe of my ear, softly kissing behind it. I held my breath, biting hard at my tongue. "You like being touched?"

"Y-Yes, George." Such bullshit lies. He starts to move away, much to my relief. "Finish dinner. I'm going to finish washing up. And you are not even going to inhale that aroma without m consent, you hear?"

"Yes, George."

When he leaves, I drop the utensil I was holding into the sink. I couldn't help myself. I began to weep uncontrollably. 

Done. 

So Fucking Done.

Breathing is a luxury that I just shouldn't have.

Only one of us will live to see tomorrow.

One of us has purpose in life.

Mine is NOT remaining here with this raging, lazy ass fucking abusive alcoholic a moment longer.

Chef's knives specialize in chopping, dicing, and mincing various ingredients. Who said it couldn't be done differently.

 

He thought I was bluffing when I said I would stab myself if he would not release me. The excruciating pain from the knife in my belly came at a cost, and a murderous scream. neighbors soon contacted the police, and I was left to Fate's hands on weather I deserved to live or not. My recovery was agonizingly long and difficult. I became so conditioned I acted erratically, like a feral child. I was soon sent to an institution to try and get better. 

He put a gun to his head that year, in his prison cell. Or so I heard. Not a bad idea, considering in those last moments we spent to each other, I still seemed to be disappointed, that I wasn't accepted to the other side sooner than he was.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll do an extention of this. And switch the characters, waddaya think? The title isnt that great. If this becomes a longer work, I already have a better title


End file.
